Too Famous For That

Following Episode 10 for the podcast that morning, Mom and I drove down the road to the 1868 farmhouse for fresh eggs and pork sausage. Dozens of chickens flocked in the barnyard, black cows grazed the brown-green fields as we pulled in. One of the last remaining farms in the county, no doubt.

Swish, swish, swish, swish.

Mr. V.’s seven year-old daughter ran up to me in the brick hallway where I was waiting to pick up Puck. Her mom, the art teacher, had sent her upstairs to see me. She pointed proudly at the lace headband on her head that I had given her last week.

“Thank you!” she grinned, a little embarrassed. “I really like it! And look!” She pointed at the swishing buckskin fringe of her moccasins. “I have boots just like yours!”

Later, her mom came up to me and said, “She put the headband on this morning, and the boots and said, ‘Look, Mom! Don’t I look fancy? Do I look like Mrs. Silverspoon?’”

#flattered

Puck, who had enjoyed a better day at school, returned with me to the Big House to paint Tootsie’s (formerly the “porch cat”, Sudabeh’s) food and water bowls. And then a few rounds of “stair ball” with Mom.

Dad, who returned in time for burritos and veggie chili, was not pleased with what he found waiting for him in his room. For some reason, Bonnie loves sitting on the package of orange juice or grape juice bottles that Dad keeps under the bed for breakfasts. Dad doesn’t appreciate this. But this evening it was something different.

“Carrie. Your rabbit’s in here, sitting on a plant. And eating it.”

Carrie left to investigate. “Aw, Bonnie! Eating Grandma’s plant. You’re so cute, you naughty bun-bun!”

After Dad had checked in on our recent podcast update and building popularity, he asked if anyone had gotten the mail.

“Nope,” Carrie replied, deep into building materials on the living room floor, glue gun in hand.

“Why not?”

“Dad. We’re too busy being famous. Why don’t you hire a butler for that?”